A Bottle of Red

<p>It's been over forty years since I immigrated to Sydney. I am a Korean Australian poet. In the poem <em>You and I are</em> I reflect on the division between South and North Korea. More than seventy years have passed since countless families were separated and I wrote the poem to hold that long sorrow. Letting go of war and politics I look into the world of a father the head of a family-my own father who sat in a small room surrounded by four walls staring at a hopeless <em>Wall</em> while drawing up hopeful plans for our future. One day not even realizing spring had come I saw <em>The Cornelian Cherry</em> blossoms and thought Ah... so it's spring and in that moment the children moved forward with their lives tasting <em>The Joy of Being One</em>.</p><p>Even though<em> Life</em> offers no clear answers I paddle my little boat in search of friendship. That boat drifts beneath the rising sun at <em>Nelson Bay Beach</em> missing the mountains and streams of home until a wave becomes a brush and paints a <em>Hibiscus syriacus</em> blossom on the rocks. Before I know it it's autumn. When I long for the narrow paths of home lined with <em>The Cosmos</em> flowers I find myself thinking: perhaps those cosmos wear rainbow hanbok and are counting stars on an autumn night. That longing becomes heartache and heartache becomes The <em>Resurrection Lilies</em> blooming on the hillside. Leaning there I gaze toward the sky over my homeland hoping to feel the wind blowing from that direction-yet who could truly know such a feeling?</p><p>I stand in that wind and look toward mist-covered peaks. On a day of summer rain a woman's nobility blossoms like the <em>Blue Plum</em> flowers. Her life like a bush warbler perched on a thin branch never ceases its quiet lament. Then in an instant she scatters in the winter wind becoming tears. Meanwhile her daughter enters college and sitting beside <em>Camellias</em> in the winter wind she begins to learn a love as pure and deep as falling snow. And now as I gaze at the red twilight I reflect on the sorrows and joys of life. Recalling the people who shaped our world and the histories they forged I find that the evening sky quietly stains the life of a writer lost in thought and the clink of red wine glasses echoes with poetic resonance.</p><p><br> </p>